


"I'm bored with knitting. I'm taking up arson."

by aphrodite_mine



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bladder Control, F/F, Knitting, Terry Jefford's Pecs, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:42:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphrodite_mine/pseuds/aphrodite_mine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She even has an avatar, a little stock photo of balls of yarn and a kitten. Gross. Time to do some real work.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>"Pigs really make me giggle!" she types, "Anyone have a cute pattern for one in Brooklyn?"</i></p><p> </p><p>Rosa works a case. Gina buys her coffee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I'm bored with knitting. I'm taking up arson."

**Author's Note:**

  * For [erso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/erso/gifts).



_Thump_. 

Rosa looks up from the far-from-engrossing forum thread she's been pretending to read to see Gina flouncing back to her desk after having, apparently, left a large cup of coffee on Rosa's desk. One of the perks of being a civilian is arriving two hours late. After the butt-crack of dawn. And awake enough to stop for coffee on the way in.

"What's this?" she flatlines.

"Don't worry, I didn't give you any sugar or cream or anything remotely delicious. I know you like your coffee black, like your soul. And your wardrobe."

Suspicious. But Rosa isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Any coffee that doesn't come from the break room is coffee she'll at least give a fair chance. And she needs the caffeine. She is running as slowly as the precinct computer with seven internet tabs open.

The forums at Ravelry.com are shockingly boring for being, according to a recent tip, a hotbed of drug activity. Rosa has her doubts, but her current task happens to be following up on the lead. Even if that doesn't appear to be going too far, she's pretty much stuck. 

Other precincts have robots or algorithms to sort through junk like this, but today, at the 99, Rosa gets the pleasure of trying to track down drug dealers amongst posts about needle width and how _sick_ Janice is of friends and family only talking to her when they need something crocheted. At least now she's tracking with coffee. 

She takes a sip. French Vanilla. "Liar," she growls, turns back to her computer screen before letting her lips twist in a small smile. She (very briefly) wonders if the remark makes Gina smile. 

Gina is kicking off the day by abandoning paperwork in favor of buffing her nails, catching up on tweets, listening to Justin Bieber's new album (surprisingly smooth), and trying not to be too obvious about watching Rosa work. Not that anyone in this place would actually notice something like that, but they're detectives, right? Gina has to at least cover her own ass. All in all, it is an excellent use of taxpayer money.

And Rosa's morning hasn't been a complete wash. She's learned how to cast on, and if it weren't completely pointless, she could definitely figure out the difference between knitting and purling. (And why purling is still called knitting. Seems really... not exact. But whatever, no one asked her.) In between doing research and scanning the forums for anything even remotely suspicious she posts as YarnRosie using a proxy server. Inane stuff like, "What an incredible color palette!" that makes her gag just a little. "I used this yarn for a hat for my bubbie -- so soft!" The French Vanilla is actually helping her get into character. Someone who drinks flavored coffee might see the virtue in this. Using sticks to make useless clothing like scarves. Just get cold and suck it up. Like the rest of humanity.

Every few clicks, Rosa takes a long sip of coffee until she's finding herself invested in a battle between acrylics and anti-acrylics. The knitting underworld is, believe it or not, slowly revealing itself… just not in the direction she needs it to. So far, the most incriminating thing she's found is a debate about acrylic yarns and someone citing that "in a fire, acrylics will melt and adhere to the baby!" Disturbing, but not criminal.

She considers, briefly, turning around and asking if Gina knows anything about crochet hooks but that much social interaction is never necessary. Besides, Rosa is deep enough in the great information dump and more is just going to slide off. Not optimal for a detective who needs to be on her game.

YarnRosie has 25 posts; enough to officially not look like a spam account. She even has an avatar, a little stock photo of balls of yarn and a kitten. Gross. Time to do some real work.

"Pigs really make me giggle!" she types, "Anyone have a cute pattern for one in Brooklyn?"

Okay, it isn't subtle, but it'll do the trick. Rosa hits "Post", then minimizes the window so that Charles or Peralta won't mess up her carefully crafted knit-sona. Let that percolate on the forums while she takes a piss break. "Hey, uh," she stops briefly at Gina's desk, "don't let anyone mess with my shit." Not that Rosa can actually picture Gina intervening or even raising her voice. She tosses her now-empty coffee cup into the trash and, confident that she's done all she can, continues down the hallway to the bathroom.

At the turn, she feels something -- or someone -- touch the small of her back, and whips around. "Jesus, Gina," she hisses.

"Uh uh, can't watch your shit. Emergency meeting in Babylon."

Okay, she has Rosa's attention, and a raised eyebrow. Babylon isn't just tossed around willy-nilly, so this has at least a 50% chance of being more serious than Riri's crew getting braided with Majesty. She gestures for Gina to precede her down the hallway and the stairs. 

On the way down, Gina starts talking, telling Rosa something about the wife of a president, and this somehow segues into a lurid description of the shirtless picture of Terry that Jake "finally delivered, what a goddamn champ." 

At the door of Babylon, Gina pauses to gesture with her hands regarding Sergeant Jefford's "god-like pecs."

"Gross," Rosa says, pushing past Gina into the bathroom. "That better not be your emergency. I actually have to pee." She shoots Gina look, and then ducks into a stall. 

"Oh no way, my emergency is much more important, if you can believe that."

"Uh huh." The toilets down here are so nice and like, not disgusting at all. Rosa takes a moment to appreciate the clean seat before shoving her pants down and sitting.

 _Thump._ Rosa jumps. _Thump,_ Gina bangs on the door.

"What the fuck, Linetti?"

"Uh, excuse you, it is _massively_ rude to urinate while a lady is talking. I bet you haven't even been paying attention. What's the last thing I said?" She taps her nails on the stall door, and underneath, Rosa can see Gina is standing _right there._

"You said you wanted to cup Terry's chest like muscular oranges in your palms. Which is disgusting, by the way." She's still not peeing, which is stupid. "This is stupid." It's not like Rosa's pee shy, but Gina is standing right fucking there. 

"Sorry, you aren't the one who took precious moments out of your day to spend time talking only to be cruelly interrupted by bodily functions."

 _Stupid._ Rosa goes, tugs her pants back into place, flushes. She can feel Gina on the other side of the door being disappointed or something and it doesn't make even the smallest bit of sense, so instead of acknowledging the weirdness, Rosa elbows past Gina and frowns, avoiding her eyes, as she washes her hands. "If you have an actual emergency, let me know. Otherwise, I've got forums to monitor."

Without looking at Gina, Rosa ducks out of Babylon feeling inexplicably gross and… guilty? She practically runs up the stairs and into the break room and Rosa Diaz doesn't run from anything. "Damnit," she says and, resigned, pours herself a mug of precinct coffee. 

Focus, Diaz. Looks like her desk hasn't been touched, and the bullpen is still mostly deserted. Apparently most of her co-workers have actual cases to work. Whatever. Rosa drops down into her chair and kicks her feet up, determined to get fully engrossed in the wonderful world of knitting so she isn't tempted to try and watch Gina out of the corner of her eye.

_. . . What was that, even?_

Focus.

YarnRosie's post has four replies. Impressive. 

"I've found some REALLY CUTE animals [here](http://www.crochetpatterncentral.com/directory/farm_animals.php)"

Each of the links gets opened in a tag because Rosa is nothing if not thorough. And dammit, she's going to look at pigs made of yarn if it means getting closer to an arrest. Lots of them. They're all so . . . pink. And no, she's changed her mind, and these people need lives.

"Is [this](http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/squeeeeal) somthing like what you're looking for?"

. . . Though that is a cute crochet pig.

"Wait what medium are you looking to use, YarnRosie? You've got to be a little more specific around here. And why in Brooklen? It's called the world wide web for a reason"

She wonders if misspelling Brooklyn on a knitting forum is probable cause for punching someone in the face. And if so, how many times.

"^this but whatever you mean this is too adorable not to share http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/its-peppa-pig"

One by one, Rosa rules out the links for having anything to do with Giggle Pig and after each page manages to get momentarily distracted by how intensely shitty the precinct coffee is, especially with the taste of French Vanilla Latte still in her memory. Maybe this was Gina's plan all along. She still downs the cup, feeling like she's probably paying for some bad choices. No one is replying, though Rosa keeps hitting refresh, and the coffee is gone again, and she has nothing to do but try not to look at Gina who has reappeared at her desk and is, shit, actually doing paperwork. 

God damn it.

Maybe it's the waiting or the _feeling_ or that she keeps fucking thinking about it, but she has to pee. Again.

This might be hell.

Or Groundhog's Day. She's doomed to repeat this until she gets it right. 

Fine.

_Fine._

"Hey." She's up and standing at Gina's desk. "Come with me for a sec."

The look on Gina's face isn't exactly warm or, for that matter, thrilled, but Gina dutifully scrapes her chair backward and allows Rosa to precede her down the hallway. They're in Babylon again before the silence breaks.

"'M sorry. I wasn't paying attention earlier."

"Don't worry about it, Rosa. When you gotta go, you gotta go." She shrugs, rolls her eyes. "Disrespect me, whatever."

This is getting dangerously close to feelings. Fuck it. "I didn't say thanks for the coffee either. Though it made ours taste shittier in comparison. So don't do it again."

"Don't look at me, I just have a lot to say. I'm used to a captive audience."

"Yeah, well, maybe the bathroom isn't the best place to get that." But Rosa hasn't entered the stall. She leans against the door, shifts her hips, presses her thighs together. 

"I don't know what you're waiting for. You obviously came down here to take care of business."

"I thought, maybe, you still wanted to talk. So, talk." Rosa can't make eye contact, not with the pressure between her hips and Gina looking at her . . . like that. Like she's re-assessing, changing her mind. 

There is a long pause. Then, "You want to hear about my sweet, sweet Terry pics?"

"I didn't say that."

"Well, that's the topic du jour, so if you aren't interested, there's hella paperwork for me to put in piles and then ignore." She stretches her muscles, cracks her neck, settles to lean against the sink. 

"Ooohkay. Jumping pecs and abs it is. But keep it short, okay? I'm working a case."

Gina clicks her tongue. "Gina makes the rules."

This is stupid. "You know that I have a gun and you don't, right?"

"Oh, obvi. That's why you're gonna do me the _courtesy_ of having a decent convo for once. Full attention, on moi. But," she swallows, shrugs, "you can sit down, if you want."

Rosa kicks the stall door open, considers the options. She licks her lips. Clears her throat, but even then, her voice comes out pathetically cracked. "Pants up or down?" It's a risk, and Rosa is normally all about risks but if this isn't going in the way she thinks it is maybe going . . . 

"Down," Gina says quickly, cutting off Rosa's thoughts. "But hold it." She steps up to hold the door open as Rosa sits down. Gina narrows her eyes, drags her gaze over shoes, shoved down slacks, Rosa's tense hands in her lap, her desperately stoic face. "You drank a whole 'nother coffee, didn't you?"

"Caffeine helps with focus."

"Focusing _real_ hard now."

Rosa purses her lips, looks down, shifts. But Gina's hand draws her gaze back up, lifting her chin, forcing eye contact. "Funny," Gina says, "Can't think of anything else to say." 

Amidst darting eyes and flushed cheeks, Rosa squeezes her thighs together. The question has to radiate off of her, and after a moment of confirming silence and a small nod from Gina, Rosa lets go. Her jaw is clenched, and whatever, she isn't _nervous_ it's just that this is the stupidest thing she's ever done. Rosa punches stupid things. Doesn't _do_ them.

Rosa doesn't know what she's expecting, but Gina doesn't cackle or crow. Just makes a small noise in the back of her throat and brushes her fingertips along Rosa's cheek before stepping back out of the stall. Faces are weird, and reading them is weirder, but Gina looks satisfied. Confident. Happy. She lets the door shut, and Rosa feels her whole body exhale.

"Guess you wanna see what I've been working on," Gina says, while Rosa just sits there, every limb jelly.

"What's that?" she croaks, still behind the door.

"I know where your dealer's been distributing the goods."

Rosa kicks the stall door, hops up, and fastens her pants as she walks forward. "You what?"

"Oh, YarnRosie, I've been on this case since before you even heard the name of Giggle Pig. If there's one thing that doesn't belong on a forum for yarn arts, it's geographic coordinates. Even a novice crocheter could tell you that, and I learned from a master. Grandma Peralta taught me how to make _socks_." She emphasizes this point, clearly pleased with herself. "But I couldn't just hand it to you, I respect you too much for that. You had to dig on your own."

Rosa blinks. "What?" A flush of energy runs through her, but she doesn't know if it's the urge to punch or kiss. "You knew?"

"I called in the tip. I've got times and street names. Just waiting on the detective."

"Do you want me to punch you, or kiss you?"

"Just let me buy you a coffee when you make an arrest."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> \--
> 
> title is from Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Neffinegger. Bountiful, nay, endless thanks to my beta, gloss.


End file.
